First Cell
by AnglophileConfessions
Summary: Tommy meets Gray, a woman struggling to escape her past, while confronting his own past and fighting his own demons. Together they work towards finding some kind of peace with themselves and hope for their futures. *Title from "Looking Back" by W.S. Merwin :)
1. Chapter 1

Gray's hands pummel the punching bag with a fierceness she sometimes forgets. But, that's why she comes here; to remind herself that she's strong. Her whole body feels painfully present, but her mind drifts far above her. She finally stops for a break, flexing her hands, looking at the bruises with a smile. As she drinks her water, she notices a figure come through the door. He looks familiar despite the dark hood pulled over his head. He's broad shouldered and strong; he doesn't need to do a thing to prove it, it's just there. This guy is _strong_.

He slips off his hoody and begins wrapping his hands. As he turns, he makes eye contact with her and that's when Gray realizes who he is; Tommy Riordan. His face had been plastered across every gym across the country for awhile. He'd competed in a large competition a few months ago against his older brother. The story had been greatly dramatized and she remembered how sorry she'd felt that Tommy's personal life was being spilled across the headlines of every news station. Tommy's gaze lingered on her momentarily before he turned and began throwing punches at the hanging bag before him. Gray returned to her own punching bag, trying not to stare.

Just before Gray leaves, Tommy approaches her, shoulders rolled and head down like he's curling in on himself. A toothpick sits between his full lips, tongue rolling it as he looks up at her. He's incredibly handsome, she thinks, even though his hair is damp with sweat and his cheeks are flushed from exertion. She furrows her eyebrows as they make eye contact and he raises his.

"Your, uh, your punches are weak." He says, smirking a little, pulling on his hat and gloves, about to go out into the cold darkness of night. His voice is deep and rough.

"Really now?" Gray responds, her eyes narrowing. She suddenly feels self conscious. "I'm _not_ weak. You don't know me well enough to make that assessment."

"Nah, nah. Not you." Tommy says, grinning a little. That grin is enough to make a girl's knees go weak. "You're definitely not weak. You're anything but weak. You go at that bag over there like it's your worst enemy. But, your punches aren't landing with any force. You ever sparred before?"

"No. I just practice here sometimes." Gray says. "Not all of us want to get in the cage."

Tommy's grin falters a little and she feels unnecessary guilt. "Well, uh, you move with too much aggression. You don't let your body take over. You're too tense."

"Well, I appreciate your input." Gray said, looking down at her things. She grabs her sweatshirt and pulls it over her head. She feels like she's under a microscope and Tommy's the scientist. Can he see why she's angry when she practices? Can her sense her fear?

"Thought you could lose a little help. I don't usually just go up to people and shit."

"So, why am I different?"

"You look like boxing actually means something to you .Not for a fucking title or some shit. I don't know why, but if you want to get better, I'm willing to give some pointers." Tommy says. He looks away, pulling the toothpick from his mouth. "Doesn't hurt that you're cute."

This elicits a laugh from Gray. "Right, well...um." She ponders Tommy for a moment before deciding. "Yeah, I think some pointers would be really nice."

"Yeah, alright. Well, uh.." Tommy says looking around with a smile his eyebrows raised. "When you want to start?"

"How about next week? I'll be in after work on Monday. That work for you?"

"I'll see what I can do." Tommy says. He holds his hand out and she shakes it. "I'm Tommy, by the way."

"I'm Gray." She answers. He nods his head and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I'll see you Monday, Gray."

* * *

Monday arrives and Gray finds herself feeling nervous. _He's just a guy_ she tells herself, but her stomach rolls. _He's a nice guy._ Gray leans her head back against the wall behind the bench and closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing.

She only waits a few minutes before Tommy walks in, cheeks red from the cold. He drags his hand across his nose and mouth, popping a toothpick in before he walks over to Gray, looking apprehensive, but when she smiles at him, her green eyes bright, her dark hair framing her soft porcelain face, he can't help but relax.

"I don't normally do this sort of thing." He says, not looking at her. She follows him over to the bags, but stops when he veers off to the side.

"What? Teach people? You're one of the best boxers in the country! Maybe you should start." Gray says, scrunching her nose at him. He seems baffled at her reaction. "I saw you at Sparta. You were awesome."

"Oh...uh, thanks. Yeah, that was a while ago now." Tommy responds, his voice hard. He dismisses the topic and moves towards a stack of pads. "Alright, look, you gotta start usin' stuff like this. You can't just punch at a bag, see? That's good for strength and practice, but if you box, you're gonna have to hit a moving target."

Gray nodded her head. "I don't intend to get in the ring. I told you that."

Tommy looked at her, hard. Then he said, "Why'd you choose to box, huh?"

It was Gray's turn to shut the topic down. "No offense, but that's my business." She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to shake off the dread that creeps into her gut.

Tommy looks at her, his eyes dark, his expression serious. It sends a shiver down Gray's spine, but of fear or something kinder, she can't tell. He tugs off his sweatshirt, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt.

Gray tries not to stare and tugs off her own sweatshirt. Tommy doesn't flinch at the sudden sight of her bare stomach; she wear nothing but a sports bra beneath her hoodie. Gray wraps her hands and slips the gloves on, wiggling her fingers, Tommy slipping the pads over his hands.

"Okay….We're gonna try a couple of things…."

Gray begins to hit the pads, hard, and sweat drips from her body. Tommy stops her to adjust her stance or her motions patiently. For a guy so muscular, quiet, and intimidating, he's wonderfully gentle with her, strength behind every movement, restraint working at his muscles.

Gray and Tommy go on like this, meeting a couple times a week, trying new techniques, practicing the basics. Gray's hands are bruised, her body aches, but when she falls into bed at night she feels accomplished and strong. She's able to fall asleep without dreaming, without fear.

One night, as Gray begins to head out of the gym, Tommy turns, scratching his head and rolling that damn toothpick between his lips again. Gray's decided that they're her favorite feature today, full, soft, and red. Something about the way he licks them makes her flush and she feels silly for thinking about what they'd feel like against hers. She's zipping up her hoodie, dark hair falling over her shoulder when he asks, "You wanna get a bite?"

Gray looks up at him, trying to stop her heart from pounding, afraid that he'll hear the noise. It's part excitement, part fear. But, having spent weeks training with Tommy, she feels oddly comfortable with him. She nods her head in response. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The air outside is bitingly cold, the wind whipping at their exposed faces. Tommy walks on the outside of the sidewalk, a solid barrier between Gray and the outside world and something about it makes her look at him and smile. He's looking ahead, so she lets her gaze linger, trying to understand the feeling that arises in her gut. The streetlight throws half of his face in shadow and for a fleeting moment he looks menacing, but when he looks at her, his face is nothing but sweet.

The burger place they choose is nearly empty. Tommy holds the door open and she ducks under his arm, walking inside. Once they settle down and eat Tommy orders a beer and Gray gets a water. As soon at the beer hits Tommy's tongue, he feels the pull for more and grits his teeth.

"Soooo, if you don't teach people at the gym, where do you work?" Gray asks, popping a fry in her delicate mouth.

Tommy shrugs. "I do different jobs. Mostly boxing at different places. Gets me a decent amount of money fast."

Gray nods her head, looking at the table. "You're good enough. I'm sure you make a lot of money." Tommy doesn't respond so she plows on. "I work at a doggy day care center."

"You babysit dogs?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Exactly. It's called dogsitting you goob."

He throws a fry at her, but she ducks. "Hey! Don't throw shit at me." Gray snarls, but then she laughs and it makes his heart stop for a moment.

"Fuck…" He says with a soft laugh.

Gray chews on her lip, feeling torn and odd. One minute she was laughing, the next she felt her body begin to fold in on itself. "I should probably get home. It's getting late."

"Yeah, no problem." Tommy says. He takes the check when the waitress brings it.

"What is this? A date?" She teases, but she doesn't wait for his answer. "Thanks, Tommy."

"Mm." Is all he says in response. Something inside him is shutting itself away.

They walk out the door together and stand on the sidewalk, blue moonlight clashing against the orange glow of the streetlights. Tommy looks out at the street and sighs a little. Unconsciously he shoves his large hands into his pockets again. He looks angry or sad and Gray can't tell which and she doesn't ask. Something makes her want to hug him, but she doesn't know if that's okay, so instead she gives him a little smile and another 'thank you.'

"Yeah yeah, it's nothing. Uh, I'll see you later." He says, not meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Goodnight, Tommy." Gray responds, then she turns and walks away, leaving him standing alone, watching her go.

"Goodnight, Gray." He mutters into the cold air, steam billowing up around his words.

He stays for a moment, looking at her as she walks away from him, hating himself. _A girl like Gray is never going to like me. She's too good for me. She's too fucking good._ His fist clenches in his pocket and he turns to walk away, something dark settling into the pit of his stomach. Something that feels like dread and hopelessness. It settles deep into his bones and leaves him aching as he makes his way home.


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy sits on the living room floor, listening to Patsy Cline's voice warbling from the old stereo in the kitchen, his mother's humming flowing in and out of the words. The sun is setting and Brendan and his dad haven't returned from training yet. Tommy dumps the bucket full of legos onto the floor struggling to make something just as he hears the faucet begin to run and the dishes clink as she drops them into the sink and begins to scrub away the night's dinner, half of it still in the dish on the table.

"Tommy! Come and help your Ma for a minute, baby. Help me dry these dishes before your Pop comes home." His mother calls. Her voice is like silk, soft and gentle, a caress of a sound.

Tommy jumps up and runs to the kitchen, throwing his arms around his mother's middle, looking up at her, round, gray eyes full of nothing but admiration. She kisses the top of his head. "My sweet baby boy." She says, pulling a stool over for him to stand on. Tommy climbs the stool, finally able to see completely over the counter. At 7 years old, he's slightly small for his age and the height of the stool makes him feel like a giant, looming over all those below him. His mother smiles at him as he takes the dishes from her small, soft hands and dries them with his own, smaller hands, the tips of the towel falling over his arms and into the dishwater.

When they're finished he helps her stack them and she places them in the cabinet far above Tommy's head. Then she removes her apron and the song changes to another Patsy Cline track that he knows his mother loves. Sometimes he can hear it playing while she sits in the kitchen late at night, crying softly. He doesn't know why she cries and he doesn't ask, afraid of the answer even though he doesn't understand why yet. She takes his little hands in hers and spins with him around the room, her short blonde hair swinging around her shoulders, her smile somehow sad and happy at the same time. All Tommy sees is the love in her face and god, she has never loved anyone the way she loves her two boys.

 _I fall to pieces_

 _Each time someone speaks your name_

 _I fall to pieces_

 _Time only adds to the flame_

She picks Tommy up in her arms and gently sways with him, his head falling onto her shoulder, his breathing even and soft.

 _You tell me to find someone else to love_

 _Someone who'll love me too_

 _The way you used to do_

Tommy is nearly asleep, his little, growing hands tangled in his mom's hair. Her nose is buried against his neck, breathing in the scent of wind and shampoo, savoring this moment of peace that she knows won't last long. Just as the song ends and another begins, the front door slams, signaling Paddy and Brendan's return. Tommy wakes at the sound and squirms for her to let him down. She obliges, allowing Tommy to run into the living room. Paddy comes through the archway, brushing Tommy's head with the top of his hand, as he runs towards his brother. Tommy idolizes the tall 11 year old standing before him, covered in sweat and looking ill. A frown settles onto Tommy's face when he notices, just before the yelling begins.

"Have you been drinking, Patrick?" His mother asks. "With our son in the car?"

"I can drink whenever I want. He's here safe isn't he?" Paddy grunts, reaching into the liquor cabinet to pull out a bottle of whiskey, tipping it back and draining nearly half in just a few gulps. "I've had a long day."

"Did something happen at work? Is there a problem or something?" She probes, her arms crossed and her facial expression wary.

"I hate my job, see? That's the fucking problem." He growls, lowering the bottle and glaring at her. "I hate my fucking job and this fucking house. I go to work where all I do is listen to other people give me shit and push me around just so you can have some place to live. Then I gotta come home and listen to this shit."

"Paddy…" She says softly, tears welling in her eyes.

He ignores her, raising his voice. "Nah, don't 'oh Paddy' me! I gotta fucking work, I gotta fucking take care of the kids, I gotta fucking take Brendan up to a fucking junky gym because we can't afford to take him elsewhere. The kid's got real potential if he'd toughen the hell up."

Brendan looks at the ground, a tear sliding down his quickly brushes it away before Paddy can see it.

"Paddy, stop it! The boys are in the other room. Please, stop this. We'll talk about it later. How about you eat something, huh? I made lasagna, your favorite. Just, please calm down..." She pleads, throwing a glance at her two young sons. Tommy is shaking, looking at up at Brendan, his hand reaching upwards for his brother's.

Paddy stomps towards the table and pokes the lasagna with his hand. "It's fucking cold." He says. And then he picks up the glass dish and hurls it at the refrigerator. Glass sprays everywhere, and tomatoes stain the white linoleum like blood. Tommy cries out, throwing his hands up to his eyes where a piece of glass has wedged itself above his left eye, just below his eyebrow. Tears spring up and he falls to the floor in a panic. Brendan immediately drops beside him, trying to pull his hands away, blood dripping between Tommy's fingers and staining the carpet below him.

"Oh, looky here. We've got a fucking mess for sons, sweetheart. Look at that! One of them can't hold down his lunch after a little workout and the other screams and cries like a little bitch! Blood on the carpet and puke in the fucking car." Paddy spits, swaying slightly. He reeks of alcohol and his face is a swollen red, his eyes watery and full of anger. You're _babying_ them. _Spoiling_ them!"

"PADDY STOP IT." Just as she says it, Paddy's hand flies towards her and Tommy's mother falls to the ground, her blonde hair fanning out around her.

"Don't you fucking talk to me you bitch! Don't you fucking tell me how to raise my boys!" He screams, his words slurring, alcohol running over his lips. He isn't making sense anymore. He's lost to them all, anger his only companion.

Tommy is inconsolable, his sobs the only sound in the suddenly quiet room. Brendan is crying and holding him tightly, staring ahead at his mother on the ground, Paddy standing over her. Brendan scoops Tommy up into his arms and runs towards their bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tommy watches his Ma and Pop from the crack in the doorway to his bedroom. They're sitting in their room across the hall and Paddy is rubbing his mother's back as she cries, offering her apologies and making her promises. The stitches above his eye smart as a crease forms between his eyebrows. Although he doesn't quite understand what's happening, he knows that something in their family has changed forever. He no longer walks to his father with ease, or sits near him without tension finding it's way into his young heart.

Some nights he can hear raised voices or the clinking of glass against glass and he hides his head beneath the pillows. Other nights he crawls into Brendan's bed across the room and buries his face in his big brother's chest, praying over and over again that their lives will go back to normal, that his Pop won't drink so much anymore, that he won't yell at anyone or hurt anyone anymore. More than anything, he prays to be better, hoping that if he can be what his Pop needs him to be that he won't get mad anymore, hoping that his Ma will fix them all, the same way she patches the knees of his jeans when he falls.

But God doesn't hear his prayers. God doesn't listen, because it only gets worse.


	3. Chapter 3

_I fall to pieces_

 _Each time I see you again_

 _I fall to pieces_

 _How can I be just your friend?_

Tommy sits in a chair by the window, looking out at the rising sun as the track plays again. He sighs heavily and gets up, slowly making his way to the old turntable sitting on the floor, crouching down to lift the needle. The vinyl record is smooth beneath his fingers, pristine despite all the times that it's been played. He flips it around in his hands before stashing it away in a box of his mother's things. An old wound begins to smart and he finds himself with his forehead against the cold window, eyes closed, hands itching to reach for something. His mind drifts to the drinks in the fridge, but he thinks better of it and goes for the phone on the end table.

"Pilar, hey." He says. Without thought or warning a smile comes to his face.

"Tommy? Oh, it's so good to hear from you. How are you? How're you doing?" Pilar asks, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm doing real good."

"Settled into your apartment okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just fine. How're the kids doing? How're _you_ doing?" He asks, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"They're doing great. We're doing okay, Tommy...Did you get their card?" She asks, giggling.

Tommy laughs. "Yeah, I got it." A large card sits on a shelf, the words 'we love you, Uncle Tommy' emblazoned across the top. Inside was a picture of Pilar and the kids, alongside a picture of Tommy and Manny from their days in the marines. "Was the money I sent enough to cover everything? I tried to get as much as I could, but there wasn't much work this month…"

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: you worry too much. We're doing just fine, Tommy. I promise."

Tommy nods his head, his eyes finding the picture of himself and Manny, now framed and sitting next to the card. "Yeah, well you tell me if you're ever not fine, okay? You tell me and I'll fix it."

"I know it.. I know you would. Manny was lucky to have a friend like you." She says quietly. "We're so lucky."

"Nah…" Tommy says. "Manny's my brother. You're family, Pilar."

He can hear Pilar clear her throat on the other end and when she speaks again her voice shakes. "You meant the world to Manny."

A lump settles in Tommy's throat and the line goes silent for a moment. "Well, you know, he meant a lot to me too."

"It wasn't your fault, Tommy. Don't blame yourself. It's all in the past now."

Tommy closes his eyes, breathes deeply, tries not to completely shut down right here and now.

"Manny would be so proud of you. He would be so so proud." Pilar continues. "You've done more for us than we ever could have imagined Tommy. You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have a debt to repay."

Tommy feels sick, unsure what to say. So instead, he doesn't answer. "I gotta go, Pilar. Gotta take care of some stuff today. Meeting Brendan for lunch and then I gotta down to the gym and help a girl called Gray out." Tommy says.

"Ohhhh, Tommy's got a girl huh?" Pilar asks excitedly.

Tommy laughs, feeling the tension leave his chest.

* * *

"So, how ya been, Tommy?"

Tommy sits across from Brendan in a diner halfway between their houses, a coke in one hand, the other pushing and rolling a toothpick around in his mouth. They've sat for nearly an hour now, eating, occasionally talking, avoiding each other's eyes. After Sparta, things became easier and Tommy found himself able to forgive Brendan, for abandoning him, for choosing another over him and Ma, for choosing _Pop_ over them. Life isn't a fucking fairy tale though; fourteen years of separation filled with resentment and hurt don't make for an easy recovery.

"I'm here aren't I? Up walking around, so I guess that's pretty good, huh?" Tommy says, looking across the diner at a family talking and laughing while they wait for their food.

"Yeah, well that's good! You settling into life as a free man, yet?" Brendan asks, taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

Tommy's eyes swing to his. "I'm not a fucking convict."

"I know, man. I just meant you've been out of detainment for a few months now, got yourself an apartment...You're doing good for yourself, Tommy."

Tommy nods his head, trying to relax. "Yeah, thanks. You get real good at that kinda shit when you're alone."

"Look, I've been meaning to ask you over, to come and see the girls and Tess." Brendan says, looking up at his baby brother.

Tommy huffs, smirking and looking away again. The youngest at the other table is throwing a tantrum now, wanting something that he can't have. _Get used to it, kiddo_. "I don't think Tess would want me coming in and, you know, messing shit up, man. You got a life already. You don't need to rearrange it on account of me. Lunch is one thing, family dinner though? Nah, I don't know."

"Tommy, come on. No one's rearranging anything! We're family. The girls want to know their uncle. Don't you want to meet your nieces?" Brendan looks at him, pleadingly.

Tommy can feel conflict rising in his gut. If he's honest, he does want to meet Brendan's girls, but the other half of him is so strongly tied to the past that even the thought makes him uncomfortable. "Yeah, I mean, I do, but I been real busy lately, I gotta see what I've got going on this month."

Brendan frowns slightly and nods his head. "If you find some time or something, just let me know. We'd love to have you."

Tommy nods in return, looking into his brother's blue eyes, more piercingly crystalline than his own blue-gray ones. "Yeah, of course."

As they finish eating, Tommy tries to cast his mind elsewhere, and it falls on Gray. He smiles to himself and lunch moves forward with ease.

* * *

Gray walks down the sidewalk quickly, the sky darkening, the snow swirling about her head. She tries to bury her face into her scarf, but the wind still cuts through, sending shivers through her body. When Gray reaches the gym, she sees Tommy standing outside waiting for her.

"Hey!" She calls, a smile creeping to her face. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Tommy chuckles, hands jammed deep in his coat pockets, hat pulled down over his ears. "Waiting for you. Weather's bad, I wanted to make sure you could get down that steep ass sidewalk okay."

Warmth rises to Gray's cheeks at his words; no one's ever done anything like that for her. "Stop being so sweet, you weirdo." She can't tell rather a blush has risen to Tommy's face or if it's just red from the cold.

"Come on, let's get inside." Tommy says opening the door for her. The heat of the gym hits their cold bodies like a tidal wave of warmth.

* * *

Tommy watches the fluidity of Gray's movement with pride and affection. "You're doing really good, Gray."

"Thanks." Gray says with a small smile, panting as she kicks out at the pad he throws to his side for her.

"I think it's time for you to learn defense moves." He says, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. Gray's heart does a small dip before she answers.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, sure. I think it'd be good. You can take the pads and I'll throw some punches your way. It's important to learn how to anticipate your opponent's movements, you know? That way you can block before they can make contact." Tommy says. He drops the pads as she steps back, rubbing the back of her neck. "Don't be nervous. I would never do anything to hurt you."

At his words, Gray looks up and searches Tommy's face, seeing nothing but sincerity. She nods and they begin. At first, she's nervous, throwing up her hands and forgetting the kicks. Each time she fails to block Tommy's moves, he taps her gently wherever he was aiming, alerting her of her error. One she settles into things, she finally gets the hang of it and finds herself blocking more and getting tapped less. Tommy's form and movements are mesmerizing, the muscle in his arms flexing with each movement. Sweat makes its way down his back and chest, dampening his t-shirt.

"Tommy, what's that tattoo on your collarbone?" Gray asks, looking at the numbers scrawled across his skin, peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Huh?" Tommy mumbles, concentrating on her movements. He aims a kick at her left leg while she's distracted and she tips backwards onto the mat. She lies there for a moment before throwing her arms over her head with a groan. Tommy chuckles at her exasperation and plops down onto the mat next to her, handing her his water bottle. She hesitates before taking it in her hands and tipping back it's ice cold contents..

"You didn't answer my question." Gray says raising her eyebrows and staring at Tommy intently.

"What question?" He asks, not meeting her eyes.

"What do the numbers mean?' She asks. She gently reaches out and trails her fingertips across his skin. Tommy's eyes rise to meet hers and his hand reaches to hers on instinct, brushing against her knuckles.. Gray jerks her hand back as though she's been burned, but she regrets it immediately at the change in his expression.

"It's a marine corp ID number." Tommy answers. "It's, uh, it's my brother's."

"Brendan was in the corps?"

Tommy looks away again. "No." Then he gets up and gathers his things.

Gray nods, accepting that this is something Tommy isn't ready for yet, and she doesn't blame him. There are ghosts in her past she doesn't want anyone to see. Once everything is put away, Tommy returns to her and she looks up at him as he extends a hand towards her. With the light behind him and the serious look in his eyes, he looks dark; he is an unknown expanse of humanity, she has yet to see the lines and shadows of his identity, although she has glimpsed a few.

When they're bundled up, they nod to the guy at the front desk and leave, walking out into a flurry of snow. The ground and roads are completely covered in a frigid blanket of white. It's difficult to see the streetlamps even, their light a hazy glow in a world of darkness.. "Shit…" Gray says into the silence of the night. She immediately begins to shiver. When she looks down the road at the hill she has to walk up she groans absentmindedly. Tommy throws a glance her way, evaluating the situation.

Something inside him feels compelled to do something to end her distress. The frown on her face reminds him of someone else, but he can't remember who. Without deeply considering his idea, he poses it: "My house is closer than yours. If you want to come back to my place, you're welcome to stay there as long as you need to, uh, you know, until the snow stops." His cheeks redden slightly and he's glad the cold masks it. He wipes his hand across his face and adjusts his hat, his shoulders instinctively rolled forward in a defensive stance.

Gray's surprised at his question and her immediate thought is _yes, please_ , but then old memories surface and she finds doubt creeping into her gut. "Um…" She looks up at the sidewalk winding up the hill and snow blows into her eyes. She turns back to look at Tommy and something inside her feels like it's breaking apart. The hazy streetlight throws his features into sharp relief and he looks so warm and handsome. His licks his full lips and begins to chew on his bottom one. Gray feels a wild animal begin to kick at her abdomen.

"Gray?" Tommy says gently. He reaches out to her and she flinches unconsciously.

"Yeah. Yes. That would be really nice, if you don't mind." She finally says. Tommy's smile, so rare, sends one last kick to her lower belly and then they turn and begin trudging down the hill to Tommy's apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

The roads are slippery beneath their feet and Tommy and Gray keep bumping into each other. Neither of them moves further away and both of them can feel the thumping of anticipation in their chests, something neither have felt in a very long time. Tommy looks over at Gray and he feels a warmth unlike any other blossoming in his chest. He's nervous that the more she learns about him, the farther she'll pull away. He's only known her for a month and yet she's brought something out in him that no one else, not a girl, not his family, not his friends have ever brought out in him. When Tommy is with Gray, he feels like he can be...better. Like he can have a second chance and move on with his life without looking over his shoulder, without resentment and loneliness clawing at his back. Looking at Gray feels like forgiveness.

They reach Tommy's building, the snow so thick that he can barely see it at all. Their skin is frozen and shivers run down their spines as they carefully make their way up the steps towards Tommy's apartment. Gray slips on the slick steps, but Tommy's hands fly out and catch her hips, holding her in place. His thumb slips beneath her jacket, brushing across her cold skin and he looks up at her nervously as she turns and meets his eyes.

Tommy's home is small and warm, enveloping Gray in comfort and safety. Boxes still litter the corners; he hasn't made this place his entirely, but she can still see parts of him in everything around her. She smiles and looks at Tommy, pulling off his jacket and slipping off his shoes.

"Sorry." Tommy grunts, looking around at the small apartment. "Haven't finished unpacking." He shrugs and grins at her.

"I don't care," Gray says quietly. "It's nice. It's homey. It's good." _It feels like you._

Gray takes off her jacket and scarf, but she's still shivering with the damp and cold and it doesn't go unnoticed. "Shit, Gray. Your lips are purple." Tommy says. He walks heavily into the other room and returns shortly with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. "You gotta get yourself out of those damp clothes or you'll never get warm."

She stares at the clothes in her hands and tears well up in her eyes. She blinks furiously before looking up at Tommy's concerned expression. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem, whatever you need, you just let me know." Tommy looks around the room, chewing on his bottom lip, running his tongue across the newly reddened swell. "The bathroom is in there.." He points back into the bedroom. Gray nods and disappears behind the white door, leaving Tommy in silence.

He tugs off his own shirt and pants, pulling on dry pants and a t-shirt and hoodie. Tommy is making coffee when Gray walks into his small kitchen. He turns to look at her and has to swallow hard to push down the feeling in his stomach. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in loose curls. She's swimming in his oversized clothes, but she looks comfortable and content. _She looks fucking beautiful._

Gray goes and curls up on the couch, leaning into the pillows, all her limbs folded inward like she's trying to disappear. Tommy grabs a blanket from his room and spreads it across her lap and shoulders. She snuggles into it, feeling more comfortable that she thinks she should. But, no alarms go off in Gray's head. He comes and sits next to her, far enough away that she doesn't feel crowded, close enough to make her feel safe.

Unsure what to say, Tommy just looks at her, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating her features and sending him tumbling into a feeling he isn't sure he's ready for. But, god damn, he wants to be. Gray chews at her lip.

"Tommy, why are you so nice to me?"

Tommy is startled by the question. "Why you asking me something like that?" Gray shrugs halfheartedly. "Gray, I'm nice to you because you're...because you deserve that. You deserve to be treated like you matter. You…" Tommy shrugs and looks down at his hands, large and littered with scars. He doesn't know what else to say to her, so he lets his voice fade out, and slides down on the couch, spreading his knees apart and bringing his arms up to rest behind his head. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be nice to you? You're the sweetest person I know."

He finally looks up at her again and she's smiling slightly with a facial expression he can't quite read. Without warning, Gray slides close to him, rests her head against his shoulder and looks up at him. When he looks down at her he feels himself slipping. Everything that's happened fades away and he's 7 years old again, innocent, naive, clear of scars and fear. She closes her eyes and sighs against him. Tommy leans his cheek down to rest on top of her head.

"You're the best man I've ever met, Tommy. I mean that." She murmurs, her breath warming his skin. "You're a good man...I think you forget that…"

Tommy's breath catches in his throat and he feels the itch again, like a cornered animal. _No, Gray, please don't_ he silently begs, _Please don't put your faith in me. I'll only let you down._

Finally warm, they both begin to doze off. "You can sleep in my room." Tommy says quietly. "I'll sleep in here. Whatever you need, you let me know, alright?" Once Gray goes to bed, he begins rearranging the pillows on his couch and brings the blanket up over himself. Moonlight gleams through the window and he sees snow flurrying past. It's white against the dark sky, and shimmers like diamonds. His eyes fall closed and his body relaxes.

Tommy senses her presence above him before he feels her lips press against the corner of his mouth. His heart crashes around in his chest and he opens his eyes to her before she steps away. "What was that for?"

Gray smiles gently. "Goodnight, Tommy." Then she's gone.

* * *

"So, are you gonna tell her?" Brendan asks.

"Tell her what?" Tommy says, avoiding his big brother's eye.

They're sitting across from each other at the diner again. It's Saturday and the sun is out, but the cold clings to Pittsburgh like a plague. Snow sits in heaps along the sidewalks and outside front doors.

"Tommy, you know what I mean." Brendan says, munching on his chips. "Gray seems like a great girl, so why don't you just tell her you like her."

Tommy leans forward and pulls the toothpick from his mouth. "It's none of your business, man. Besides, Gray knows I like her."

"Does she know you want to teach her something other than kickboxing?"

Tommy throws his toothpick at Brendan, but it glances off his shoulder and he laughs. "Shut up, it's not like that, you shit."

"Well, that's all the more reason to tell her, then." Brendan says, leaning back into the cushions of the booth.

"Nah, she doesn't need someone like me." Tommy sighs, chewing his way down a french fry, the salt biting his tongue. Brendan shakes his head, looking down at his own plate.

"Stop doing this to yourself, Tommy."

 _I can't_.

* * *

Gray lands a heavy punch to the pad in Tommy's hand before throwing a solid kick at his side. "I think you're ready to start with some floor stuff. I, uh, I think you should probably do that with another woman though. That's how it would be in the cage."

They switch, Gray holding the pads, blocking the hits Tommy throws her way. He licks his lips and she feels his hand tap her side, signaling that she's missed a punch. "I don't want someone else. I want you." The pads fall to her sides and she looks at the floor.

Tommy nods his head, trying not to smile and looks out over the other people in the gym, each in their own world. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Gray says her eyes boring into Tommy's. "I'm here for defense, right? Well, if a big guys comes and tries to beat the shit out of me, I want to be prepared for that. So, I'd rather you teach me. I'm not comfortable with anyone else."

Tommy wipes the sweat from above his lip and begins pulling at the velcro strips of his gloves with his teeth. He silently deliberates, before looking up at her. His cheeks are flushed sweat slides down his neck. "Alright. Well, uh….we'll start now then."

"Wait, now?" Gray asks her eyes widening comically. Tommy nods his head, smirking, and steps past her towards a vacant mat.

"We'll start with some basic floor moves, alright?"

He kneels on the ground and motions for her to follow. She hesitates, her breathing quick, before she joins him. Together, they move around the mat, Tommy showing Gray different ways to twist and move her body, to either escape an opponent or attack one. He's careful to mind her personal space, always showing her his respect for her body. She can feel his affection in the way he gently repositions her arms or legs, and the way he smiles when she gets something right. They focus on defensive strategies most heavily and Gray feels safe and confident. It isn't until Tommy introduces the last move to Gray that she feels panic flood her body. Even though she knows she's safe, the memory her muscles hold is stronger than her rationality. She's on her back with Tommy kneeling between her spread knees, the light behind him turning him into a silhouette above her. When he leans down to show her how to roll him over, a memory cuts through her and she closes her eyes and throws her arms over her face protectively.

"Gray?" Tommy immediately realizes that something is wrong.

She begins to shake, still covering her head and face with her arms and hands. Her breathing is far too quick, the air wheezing in and out of her lungs, struggling to make it's way through her body. She feels lightheaded and panicked. _Nonononono please no._ She doesn't realize she says the words out loud.

Tommy quickly and carefully takes one of her legs and brings it around him gently, rolling her onto her side and away from him. He's seen this before. He's experienced this before; the recognition makes him sick.

"Gray, it's Tommy. You're okay. I need you to relax, Gray. You have to breathe." He rubs her back with his hand.

"Is everything okay?" A man says from behind him. It's the owner of the gym, the guy who coached Mad Dog, Colt Boyd.

"She's having an anxiety attack. I need to get her somewhere quiet." Tommy says quickly. Colt doesn't move, his eyes on Gray's shaking figure. " _Now_."

"My office, it's over there."

Colt points to a room behind Tommy and Tommy gently scoops Gray up, carrying her into the room and shutting the door. Her breathing is still strained as he lays her on the couch. Tears leak from behind her eyelids. Only 3 minutes have passed, but it feels like an eternity. Tommy crouches next to the couch and strokes Gray's hair.

"Gray, you're safe, okay? It's just a memory. You're safe here. I need you to put your arms above your head for me." Gray nods and moves her arms above her head with Tommy's help. "Breathe in for 10 counts...out for 10 counts." Gray struggles to bring air into her lungs, but slowly her body relaxes and she opens her eyes. The expression in them makes Tommy's heart sink to his stomach. She begins to cry more heavily, still looking into his eyes. "Shhhhh, you're okay."

Gray doesn't answer him. Instead she sits up a little and wraps her arms around his body, burying her face in his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes and returns her hug. When she's calmed down she extracts herself from his arms, but holds his hands in hers. "Thank you."

Tommy nods. They sit in silence for a while before Tommy asks the question weighing on his mind. "Gray...what happened to you?" He doesn't meet her eyes.

"Nothing." Gray mutters, pulling her hands away. She wraps her arms around herself protectively.

"That was nothing?" Tommy looks up at her and his expression is too much for Gray. He can see her fear, he knows why she's so cautious and quiet. He understands why she came to the gym, why she's desperate to keep herself safe. "Who did it?"

She takes a moment to answer him, swallowing hard before meeting his eyes. There is defiance there, and something else: anger. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tommy shakes his head and stands up, moving to lean against the wall across from Gray. "Who hurt you?" His voice is shaking with restraint.

Gray closes her eyes and tears escape beneath her eyelashes. When she opens them, her eyes are cold and closed off. Suddenly, Tommy's lost a part of her. "That's none of your goddamn business."

"Gray…"

When she leaves the room, the air turns cold and the door shuts behind her with a finality that leaves Tommy hopeless.


	5. Chapter 5

Brendan and Tommy spar, rolling on the floor and hitting another with all the strength they have. Tommy breathes around his mouth guard, heavily. Brendan is giving it everything he's got, but Tommy sees an opening and takes his chance, knocking him to the ground and pinning him. The breath in Brendan's lungs whooshes out as his back hits the mat. Tommy rolls off of him and stands, looking over to his father who nods his head in approval. A weight lifts off of Tommy's chest, but that weight seems to land on Brendan who stares at the ceiling, waiting for his father's words.

"What was that Brendan? You're 14. He's 10. This isn't fucking hard. Jesus. He swings, you swing back. You can't just cover your damn head and hope he'll quit." Paddy growls. He shakes his head in disapproval and walks into the hallway. Tommy knows he's going to pull out the silver flask in his jacket pocket and empty it into his gut. The thought sends an uncomfortable foreboding sensation through his body. He stares at Brendan, sitting on the floor with his forearms resting on his knees. He doesn't say anything to Tommy, doesn't look at him. Instead he stands and walks into the hallway where his father is. Tommy can hear their voices, but he can't make out the words.

Guilt seeps into his heart as he stands there, fists clenched at his side, blood running down his bruised knuckles. He knows better than to bring it to Paddy's attention, knowing what response he'll get. As he wipes the blood on his dark sweats he hears his brother's footsteps coming down the hall. Brendan rounds the corner and says, "Come on Tommy. Pop says it's time to go home." Tommy doesn't respond. Instead he follows his brother's form into the locker room and helps him gather their things. Brendan sees the blood smeared across Tommy's hands and takes them in his own. A bruise is swelling on Brendan's jaw, where Tommy clocked him while they sparred.

"I'm sorry, Brendan." He mumbles, looking at the reddened skin. By morning it will be a mottled mixture of blue and purple.

"It's okay. It's not your fault, Tommy. Let's clean off your knuckles so mom won't say anything when we get home." Brendan says with a small, sad smile.

He takes Tommy to the counters and picks him up with ease, setting him on the edge of the sink. Tommy's feet hang down, swinging freely. "One of these days you're going to be lifting me onto the sink if you get any bigger." Brendan jokes, trying to lighten the mood. But, Tommy doesn't smile. He continues to look at his hands, wearing an expression too serious for his age. Something inside him is fading, slowly taking pieces of the light hearted kid and hiding them beneath layers of fear and sadness. Brendan sighs heavily and washes the blood from his baby brother's hands.

* * *

Tommy sits on the edge of his bed, listening to his father scream at Brendan. He calls him weak, he calls him pathetic, and all Tommy can think is _stop stop stop._ Tears well in his eyes but he blinks them away and steps out into the hallway. He can see the shadows of his family playing across the ground. Paddy stands in front of Brendan, spittle hanging from his lips, his face a deep, mottled red, a bottle of whiskey dangling from one of his hands. Brendan isn't crying; he doesn't step away from Paddy. Tommy thinks he looks as solid as a tree trunk, standing before the man who raised them, a bottle in one hand, a boxing glove in the other. His mother sits in the chair next to them, her face in her hands, blonde hair falling over her hands in tangles. Her sobs sit heavy in Tommy's ears as he slowly walks forward.

"Paddy, please stop. They're kids!" She cries, looking up at Paddy with bloodshot eyes. "They're not soldiers! You're pushing them too hard. You're going to get them hurt."

"You shut the hell up!" Paddy says rounding on his wife. "I know what I'm doing."

"Don't talk to her that way!" Brendan yells. Tommy flinches at the sound. He knows what happens next.

Paddy knocks Brendan to the ground, roughly. Each time Brendan tries to stand, Paddy kicks him back down. "Do you know how many championships your brother has already won? That was supposed to be you. I spend all damn night training you and your brother and this is the thanks I get. When I was in the marines, they would've left me to die if I were as weak as you are."

Tommy's mother finally stands and walks towards Paddy, her hands outstretched. When Tommy thinks back on it, she reminds him of the Madonna, hands reaching for his father, face sad, but still. Time feels like it's slowing down around the small, dark-haired boy in the hall, watching his family fall apart. His father's hand slaps against his mother's cheek, throwing her back into the chair. Tommy cries out and runs forward, but his father pushes him roughly to the ground. Brendan runs for their mother and Paddy grabs him by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the wall.

"I hate you! You're a fucking coward!" Brendan shouts. "You think you're so tough, but you're just a sad piece of shit."

Tears run down all of their faces and Tommy feels like he's going to be sick. He stands and stumbles towards his father before beating him on the back with his fists. When Paddy turns towards him, any fighting instinct present within Tommy seems to shrivel up, but he stands his ground just like Brendan.

"Stop it you little shit!" Paddy yells. "You stop it! I won't deal with this, you understand? I won't deal with this." He picks the whiskey up from the ground where he dropped it and tips it back, amber liquid running out of his mouth. Tommy tries to yank the bottle from Paddy's hands, screaming for him to stop hurting everyone, to stop hurting himself, but Paddy is relentless.

"What, huh? You want some? Huh?" Paddy growls, his words slurring together.

He shoves Tommy to the ground and grips his face tightly before pouring the whiskey over Tommy's mouth. The liquid spills onto his skin and into his open mouth, burning his throat and chest. Tommy begins to cough, choking on the liquor, kicking his feet until Paddy releases him.

Then Paddy storms from the house, driving his beloved car to god knows where. But, none of them can find it in their hearts to care, because for the moment they're safe. Brendan is still standing against the wall, tears soaking into the collar of his t-shirt. His mother crawls down onto the floor towards Tommy, curled into a ball on the ground. She drags him into her arms and looks at Brendan.

"Come here, baby." She weeps. The three of them sit in the floor amidst the mess of pillows and glass. Their mother rocks slightly and Tommy finally relaxes, the feel of his brother's arms around them and the smell of his mother's skin soothing him. His eyes settle on the brown liquid seeping into the carpet and he licks the fiery liquid from his lips, tears drying on his cheeks.

It was the first time Tommy had ever tasted it.

* * *

"Brendan?" Tommy whispers into the dark.

"Mmm." Brendan mumbles back, sleepily.

"I love you." Tommy says.

Brendan sits up and looks at his brother, bathed in dim light from the streetlamp outside their window. "I love you too. It's not your fault. You know that right?"

Tommy stares at the cotton sheets, playing with the loose threads. He doesn't respond.

"Tommy, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Not ever. This is Pop. This isn't us, okay? This isn't you." Brendan whispers. He crawls out of bed and sits on the end of Tommy's bed. "I'm going to keep us safe. I'm going to take care of us."

"Promise?" Tommy asks.

Brendan stares into his little brother's blue-green eyes and his heart swells. Tommy has so much heart. "I promise, Tommy. I promise."

* * *

Long after Brendan falls asleep, Tommy lays awake in bed, listening to the sound of cars driving past outside the window. Finally he creeps out of bed and into the hallway. There is a light on in the living room, but no sound comes from ahead. Tommy's his mother lying on the couch sleeping, her eyes moving beneath her closed eyelids. She looks so troubled and broken beneath the thin blanket spread over her slight frame. Tommy leans down to kiss his mother's cheek and turns the light off. The kitchen is clean and quiet, so Tommy sits and waits. Finally, at 2:30 am, Paddy comes through the front door and heads for the kitchen. When he sees Tommy sitting at the table, he joins him. Tommy looks up at him with apprehension, unable to decide if he's happy that his Pop has made it home safe or if he wishes he'd never came home at all.

"Tommy…" Paddy mumbles. He's reached the stage where nothing hurts anymore and all he feels is warm and numb and careless. Tommy lays his head down on the table and stares at a dent in the wall across from him. Paddy pats his son's shoulder and sighs. "I'm sorry for hurting you and Brendan. I'm sorry that I hurt your mother." His eyes are watery and red and his words slur together with alcohol and exhaustion.

Tommy doesn't respond and Paddy begins to cry onto the linen tablecloth, his head buried in his hands until he slumps forward and falls asleep at the kitchen table. When Tommy goes back to bed, it's with a heavy feeling in his chest, one that weighs him down and feels inescapable.

This pain is endless.


	6. Chapter 6

Tommy sits in his living room, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. Gray's name flashes across the screen again, but he ignores it and takes another swig from the bottle, the honey colored liquid burning his insides. He wipes his mouth and leans his head back against the couch, thinking. He hasn't drank any whiskey in over a year. The last time he drank it was when he came back to Pittsburgh and sat on his father's porch steps, _his_ porch steps until he was 13 years old.

He's disappointed in himself for caving in, but he pushes the feeling away. He ruins everything he touches. He doesn't belong anywhere, in anyone's life. Every time a thought hits him he drowns it in whiskey until he forgets what he was thinking and everything feels soft again. He gets up and takes the picture and card Pilar and the kids sent, remorse and sadness crashing through him mercilessly. He hurts everyone. _And now Gray_ Tommy thinks. _I've hurt Gray._ He turns the photo and card to face downward. _I'm becoming my father_.

A knock sounds on his door, sharp and loud in his ears, but he ignores it, until it the knocking turns into banging and he can't anymore. When he opens the door he's startled to see the face staring back at him.

"What you doing here?" Tommy mumbles, not meeting Gray's eyes. Her eyes drift to the bottle in his hand and her brow furrows.

"You haven't been answering my calls. I want to talk to you...about what happened the other day at the gym. I shouldn't have left you like that. That wasn't fair to you." She says.

"Sorry, Gray, but uh, I don't have time for this. I got a fight tonight." He leans against the doorframe and even though his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are sad her heart still skips a beat at the way he looks at her. "You don't gotta say anything, Gray. I know, alright? I get it. I've been there."

"How much have you been drinking?' Gray asks.

Tommy shakes his head and doesn't answer. They stand for a few moments, Gray trying to catch Tommy's eye while he continuously evades her gaze. He feels so closed off from her that it doesn't even feel like he's the same man. The warmth and kindness that makes him who he is has receded and left him cold.

"I was worried about you."

"Nah, you don't need to worry about me. See, I can take care of myself." Before Gray can answer he adds, "I gotta go okay? I can't come out to train you or anything. Maybe you should find someone else." He feels sick to his stomach. While part of him wants to push her against the wall and kiss her, the other part wants to shut the door and never see those green eyes again.

Gray takes a small step forward. "I don't want anyone else, Tommy. I want you."

"Don't start that shit, Gray, you don't want someone like me in your life." Tommy scoffs. "You don't want this." He gestures to the whole space around him. "You don't need this shit."

"You don't get a say in what I don't want or need in my life. That's my choice. I care about you." Gray says. Tommy can see the hurt in her eyes.

"You don't know anything about me." He says, darkly.

"You won't let me." Gray says, her face full of distress.

"You're one to talk. I don't know shit about you." Tommy retorts, his tongue loose with liquor. "You're always pulling and pushing at me and I'm not good enough for someone like you. You've been through enough."

"You've been alone long enough!" Gray says loudly. "You can't just pretend nothing is wrong with you and push off every question I ask and then do what you do to me." Her voice is quivering by this point and her eyes begin to smart and she hates herself for letting Tommy get to her like this. For letting her feel like this again and then pushing her away. "And you don't always have to do everything alone."

Tommy's chest is heaving and his voice is rough when he says, "Take your own advice Gray."

"What're we even doing right now?" She breathes.

"You're leaving. I'm going to a fight." Tommy says. He finally looks at her, but his facial expression is that of a person seeing someone for the very last time. Then he shuts the door, closing Gray off, and hiding his vulnerability away.

* * *

The air is getting warmer, so Tommy leaves the house in his sweats and hoodie, walking to the bus stop. One of the things he hasn't taken care of yet is his driver's license. And he needs to find a car that's cheap enough, but still runs. He can fix what doesn't work. _I wish everything were that fucking easy_ he thinks.

When he gets to the venue, a crowd has already gathered outside, ready to watch the ensuing fights. This one was too easy to book, but Tommy's not complaining. He needs the money and if he wins this one he'll get 500 bucks. Tommy knows he can easily win, but there isn't any fight in his heart. Once he's in the ring, everything will drift away and he'll be fine. That's what he tells himself at least. A bouncer is standing by the doorway to the club, ensuring that only adults get through to watch the fight.

"Conlon, right?"

"Mmmm." Tommy affirms with a nod. He pushes the toothpick around in his mouth while the man checks his name off. "Locker rooms inside. All the way down the hall. Door to the right."

So used to the movements, Tommy barely feels present as he sheds his shirt and tugs his sweats off. He stands for a moment, gathering himself, and looks up into the mirror. There he is, his shoulders rolled, his muscles taut. His black shorts sit low on his hips, and his hair falls onto his forehead slightly as he looks away. He spits his toothpick into the trash can on his way out the door.

Tommy is already warm from the alcohol, his chest almost numb with the burning. He stands next to the ring, deaf to the announcers telling the crowd a little about each fighter. When he hears his name he nods his head and ducks beneath the cords to stand in the ring. His breathing feels laboured already and no matter how hard he tries to let go, he can't seem to do it. He's lightheaded with thoughts of Gray; he can't get the image of her sad expression out of his mind. He can't forget how much she means to him and how much he wishes she didn't. It's so much easier to be alone. Being alone means you can't lose people. Being alone means no one can hurt you.

The first punch doesn't hurt. He shakes it off easily, and retaliates quickly. He kicks hard to the chest, he punches in just the right places, he throws his knee into his opponents stomach. Tommy feels knuckles bust into his side, making his ribs ache, then another one to his head. But he doesn't retaliate this time. Each hit to the head makes it impossible to think about anything. When he gets knocked to the ground and the wind leaves his lungs, he doesn't think of Brendan's family. When the blood begins to drip into his eyes, he forgets about his father. The hit to his stomach makes it hard to remember his mother dying while he held her. The blood that rushes into his mouth makes him forget the feeling of Gray's head on his shoulder and her lips against his cheek….

 _Suddenly he's in Afghanistan with the sand in his eyes and the screams of the crowd turn into the screams of the innocents. Everyone around him is dying, but this time, oh god, this time, he is dying too..._

He hears the ref shouting, feels the weight of his opponent being lifted from his body. Suddenly the sound of the crowd is deafening, ringing in his sore ears, pounding in his bruised skull. Tommy has never felt this before; he's never felt physical defeat so strongly in so long and it makes it easier to forget what his heart is feeling. A medic is next to him, making sure that he's awake and no serious damage has been done. Tommy can feel the bruises swelling and aching. His tongue smarts where he somehow managed to bite it just where his mouthpiece cuts off. Sweaty hands lift him until he can halfway stand and he shakes their hands from his arms. He doesn't get the money. But, he can't even think about that at the moment.

When he reaches the locker room, he lays on the floor with his legs against the wall and his arms fall outwards like is beginning to sober up and the numbness in his chest is fading, leaving him raw and beaten. He thinks maybe a rib is fractured and he'll definitely need stitches in places. He can still feel the blood trickling down his skin when his mind goes blank and his eyes fall closed.

* * *

.

Gray walks in circles around the living room of her apartment. Her heart feels heavy beneath the weight of longing. Tommy's expression is burned into her mind's eye. She hates herself for pushing him away and she hates him for pushing back. Part of her wants to try calling him again. She even considers going to the fight, but decides against it. She's not sure she can handle that right now.

Finally, she changes into her oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, pulling her hair up into a loose bun on top of her head. The clock reads 11:00 and she knows Tommy is probably walking home by himself. The thought makes her stomach hurt and she lays back against her soft duvet and plethora of pillows. Just as she thinks she'll finally fall asleep, a knock sounds on her door.

Gray's eyes snap open and her heart skips a beat. She tiptoe-runs to the door and looks through the peephole. "Tommy." She breathes. She looks upwards and takes a deep breath before opening the door. But, the air leaves her lungs in a _whoosh_ when she sees the man before her. It's Tommy, but he's never looked like this before. There's dried blood smeared across his face and bruises are beginning to form. His full lips are stained with blood from his mouth and he's hunched slightly, clearly in pain.

"Oh my gosh…Tommy?" Gray says, her voice weak.

"I'm so sorry, Gray." He says. His voice breaks at the end and he looks at her desperately. "I should have answered your calls. I shoulda listened. I'm an asshole for leaving you like that. I was drunk and I'm stupid-"

Before he can finish, Gray surprises herself by wrapping her arms around his neck. His skin is warm and he smells like a mixture of sweat and blood. Tommy returns her embrace, gently lifting her off the ground, so her toes skim the top of his sneakers. He breathes into her hair and groans at the effort it's taking to hold his own body up.

Gray steps back and takes his face in her hands. He won't quite meet her eyes. "What the fuck have you done to yourself?"

"I told you." He mumbles. "Had a fight tonight."

"That doesn't explain your face right now." Gray says, her eyebrows knitting together. Tommy licks his lips and raises a hand to wipe fresh blood from his skin. Gray can't stand to see him like this. There's something so innately wrong about Tommy being so thoroughly beaten; it scares her. "Come inside?" Tommy exhales slowly, as though steeling himself for something ahead. "Please come inside." She repeats.

Tommy nods his head and follows her through the doorway and into her living room, leaving his shoes at the door. Gray looks him over in the warm glow of the lamp and cringes. "Bathroom." She says decisively. Then she takes his large hand in hers and leads him to her bedroom and through it to the bathroom.

"I didn't mean to keep you up like this…." Tommy says quietly as Gray rummages in her medicine cabinet. "I just needed to tell you how sorry I am. And..uh, you know, I…" He drifts off and looks away. "I care about you."

Gray grabs peroxide, gauze, bandages, and cotton swabs, using her elbow to close the cabinet. She hears his words and her stomach does a backflip and her instincts shake inside her. "Come here."

Tommy sits on the edge of the tub, weary and battered. "Where'd you get all this?"

"My mom was a nurse. I like to be prepared." Gray answers, avoiding Tommy's eyes. _I always kept them in case he hit me. Didn't want to go to work with fresh wounds_. She can't say it outloud. Not yet.

Tommy carefully reaches out and stills her hands. She looks up at him and she knows he can see it on her face. "You're okay."

"Well, you're not…" Gray mutters.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

"I shouldn't have came here so late."

"I'm glad that you did."

They sit in silence as Gray stands between his legs, looking him over and cleaning his wounds. Her fingers are gentle against Tommy's skin and he relaxes at her touch. When she hits a deeper wound, he grimaces as the peroxide stings, and she blows on the area, making him feel like a kid who fell off of his bike. He looks up into her green eyes and is so glad that he's seeing them again. _Who am I kidding? No way in hell could I ever leave her._ The thought is sudden, but true. _What if she wants me to?_

"Take off your sweatshirt for me. I need to see your chest and abdomen." Gray grabs the hem of his shirt and helps him pull it over his head. When she presses on his ribs he flinches away from her with a grunt. She looks up at him and purses her lips. "So, what happened?"

"I think that's pretty obvious." Tommy says, dropping his gaze to Gray's neck and across her collarbone. He can see her heart beating in the hollow of her throat. "I lost."

"Yeah, well, you don't lose like this. The Tommy I know doesn't lose unless he wants to." Both of their minds go back to Sparta, but neither bring it up. "Tommy, alcohol and self harm are both things that come with…" She bites her lip and her hand drops from Tommy's chest.

"What?" Tommy says looking at her.

"PTSD." Gray says gently. "Depression….Survivor's guilt."

Tommy swallows, but continues to look at her. "You've got PTSD too. But, yours comes from somewhere closer to home." Gray stares back at him, but doesn't respond. His eyes are so soft and Gray, blue flecks scattered like raindrops over the iris. Gray looks away.

She reaches past him, her t-shirt brushing his shoulder, to turn on the faucet. Tommy looks up at her questioningly. "Epsom salts. It'll help with the bruising and pain. It'll soothe some of the broken skin too."

Tommy stands up and they're suddenly very close to one another. He moves out of the way, afraid of crowding her in the small space. She smiles a little to herself and puts a cup of the bath salts into the hot water filling the tub.

"It's a little late for a bath, yeah?" Tommy grunts.

"Humor me." Gray says. "I'll just go in the other-"

"Please stay." Tommy says quietly. Gray searches his face before nodding. Tommy sheds his sweats again and sticks one foot into the water, sighing at the immediate surge of warmth and comfort.

"You're going to get your shorts wet!" Gray says, smirking.

"Why you think I've got the sweats?" Tommy smiles at her a little. "I don't mind."

He never says it, but Gray knows he doesn't want to be alone and she's not going to leave him. She watches as he slowly lowers himself into the water, his arm muscles flexing, carrying most of his weight. He mutters under his breath, adjusting his body slightly. Gray sits on the side of the tub and stares at him intently. "You know, most people don't do this sort of thing."

"What? Give their friends a bath?" Gray says with a grin. "Only the good ones do."

Tommy smiles a little at her words. Then he looks at Gray and takes in every feature. Freckles are scattered across her nose and cheeks, her hair is messy and falling out of it's topknot. Her dark eyebrows frame her bright eyes and her lips look soft and sweet. Tommy tries to tell himself it's the leftover liquor in his system that makes him say the words; he's wrong though- it's his courage. "You are so beautiful." He blinks and looks away from her. When he glances upwards, he expects to see Gray pulling her limbs in, looking sad and nervous. Instead she's looking right at him and her expression is soft and hungry all at once and _damn_ Tommy's never liked anyone more than he likes her.

"How hard did you get punched?" Gray says with a laugh. She looks away and the moment is gone. Tommy shakes his head at her.

* * *

Once Tommy feels less shitty, Gray leaves the room so that he can change into his sweats. He walks into the living room, his bare feet padding on the wood floor. -

"I think you'll need stitches for a few of those. But, otherwise I think you'll live. The bruised ribs are gonna hurt like hell for a few days." Gray says.

Tommy just watches her moving around the room. He feels like he's overstayed his welcome. "It's really late. I, uh, I should probably get home." Before he can bend down and get his shoes, Gray lays her hand on his arm.

"Stay." Gray breathes. Her gaze falls to his lips and he swallows, hard. "Please."

Tommy can feel war brewing inside himself. _Do I stay and let this happen? Whatever this is. Or do I leave and let this go?_ Gray can sense his hesitancy and she understands it, because she's asking herself the same questions. But, she's tired of always thinking things over. She's tired of letting the past control her present, her future.

Tommy exhales slowly, thinking. And then he takes a big step towards forgiveness; he nods his head and stays.


	7. Chapter 7

"You should probably get some sleep. You gotta work in the morning?" Tommy says, glancing at Gray as he pulls his sweatshirt off. Gray's leaning against the doorframe in front of her bedroom, watching and thinking.

"For a little while. I have to run over to the animal clinic to check on the dogs there. I may have to look after a few of them if they've been dropped off for the day." Gray says. Tommy grunts in acknowledgment, pulling his shirt over his head, folding it immaculately. It's a very practiced motion, indicative of his military background. She wants to ask him about it, but holds her tongue. "If you're not busy, you could come with me."

Tommy looks at her with an unsure expression. "Uh, I've never really been around dogs much."

"That's okay, dogs love good people." Gray says seriously.

"They may not love me then." Tommy mutters. His mouth turns into a hard line as he bends at the waist, but he doesn't groan, even though he's clearly in pain.

"My couch isn't very comfy." Gray says.

"S'okay, Gray."

"Tommy, you're not exactly in tip top shape at the moment." She starts tentatively, biting her lip. "You can…you can sleep in my room."

Tommy's eyes dart up to Gray's and he finally looks at her fully. Her black sleep shorts peek out from beneath her long t-shirt and he struggles to keep his eyes off of her long legs. "You're _not_ sleeping on the couch, Gray. I'm uh, I'm fine. Thank you."

"No, I….I mean you can sleep in my room. With me. Next to me." Gray says. she struggles to keep her voice from shaking. She's slept alone for a long time now.

Tommy's heart jumps and his palms get sweaty. He's not sure what to say; he only knows what he's feeling. He's scared, nervous, apprehensive. Tommy can't guess Gray's emotions. She's always so closed off, always folding in, while he's bleeding out onto the floor, leaving a trail of trauma in his wake. _She's shell shocked_ he thinks. And he understands that too well. But she's so open right now and he wants to lay next to her. Fuck, he just wants to hold her hand. He just wants to be near her.

"You don't have to! It's okay. No worries." Gray says quickly, misinterpreting his silence.

"No, I, uh, I don't want you to be uncomfortable." He says lowly.

"I'm not." Gray says, chewing on her lower lip. She turns around and walks into her bedroom disappearing into the darkness. Tommy watches her and feels his feet start to move forward. When he gets into her room, she's already in bed, rolled onto her side, facing the other side.. Tommy climbs in next to her, feeling like a teenager again, awkward and embarrassed, but as soon as he's laying down next to her comfort washes over him.

He settles down on his back and throws one arm behind his head, exposing inky illustrations. They wind down his arms, onto his chest, and disappear onto his back. Gray reaches out and gently traces the deep black tribal path, unsure where it begins and ends. Tommy watches her, his skin tingling. The streetlight outside casts a soft orange glow through the curtains and it reminds him of the first night they went out together.

"I was 16 when I met him." Gray's voice is quiet. Had Tommy not been watching her intently, he may have missed it.

"Who?" Tommy asks. The room is still and the world is quiet so he speaks quietly too.

"My ex-husband."

"You've been married?"

"Yeah."

They're silent for a moment, listening to each other's breaths. Tommy waits for her to continue.

"He was nice at first. I know everyone says that, but it's true. He was charming in a weird way." Gray continues to gently trace over his tattoo. "He used to tell me he loved me. No matter what happened, no matter what he did, he always said that he loved me. Even when they were wheeling me into the hospital...he kept saying the words. And I just wanted it to stop. Those words were so empty and dishonest."

Tommy swallows hard, holding his breath. Something is building up inside him. "Gray…what happened to you?" She's silent for a few moments and he thinks maybe he's crossed a line. But then-

"Textbook abuse. I thought I was in love, got married when I was 19, fucked up." Her voice is steady, but her eyes glisten. "It started small. He'd get mad over little things and we wouldn't talk. Then he'd belittle me in front of our friends and family. He started calling me horrible names...and then he hit me. It was 3 months into our marriage and I was stupid enough to stay with him another 6. I thought it was all my fault and that if I tried hard enough, I could fix it."

Tommy's anger bubbles and boils beneath his skin. He takes her slender hand from his shoulder and holds it tightly in his own. He wants to tell her _it's okay; it's not your fault. It was never ever your fault._ But he's afraid that if she stops she may never speak again.

"He was good at hiding it. And he was good at making me feel responsible for our problems. Everyone thought he was so good and then I'd see it again. I'd remember how good he'd been so sweet to me when we'd first met and I'd tell myself it wouldn't happen again." Gray squeezes Tommy's hand so tightly she loses feeling in her fingers. "It got worse. I couldn't hide it anymore. I cried constantly. I was sick all the time. My hair started to fall out. That's when he stopped letting me leave the house." Gray looks up into Tommy's eyes. They're a stormy blue that's almost black in the darkness..

"The last time I saw him was when they closed the emergency room doors. I'd tried to leave him and go to my parents for help. He broke my collarbone, my pelvic bone and fractured my skull. I had a concussion. I was in the hospital for a few weeks so they could keep an eye on me. He tried to visit me repeatedly. He was always so jealous of everything and everyone." Gray's eyes are glazed over, her mind immersed in the past as she finishes her story. "When I was ready I spoke to the police. I divorced him. He's in prison now." Her words turn angry. "But he was still fucking me over. I was afraid to leave my house. I was terrified he'd escape and find me somehow. I couldn't be around people who knew what had happened. The way they looked at me like a broken object instead of a woman...I couldn't stay in that town. I couldn't keep looking at my own blood stains in the carpet. So, I moved here. I left that place and I haven't gone back since…When I met you, you asked why I chose MMA. That's why, Tommy. I promised myself I'd never let another person hurt me like that ever again."

Tommy's brow is furrowed and his jaw works as he digests what she's just told him. He wants to track this guy down. He wants to hurt him-badly. But he knows it's not what Gray needs and he knows it won't erase the past. Tommy brings their intertwined fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to each of Gray's bruised knuckles. "No one's ever going to hurt you again." It's the only thing he knows to say or do. "Ever." Gray nods, looking at their hands and she believes him. Tommy's lips are gentle and soft. She's suddenly exhausted and Tommy is warm and safe and good. She realizes that it's the first time someone's done something like that and she hasn't flinched.

Gray sighs and snuggles down under the blankets, dried tears on her cheeks, her body heavy with a deep need for sleep. Gray falls asleep against Tommy's strong shoulder, their hands still interlocked and resting on his stomach. Tommy closes his eyes and pretends the past never happened. He tries to forget everything outside himself and Gray. If he lets it in, he'll implode. Gray smells like a mixture of earthy perfume oils and sterile chemicals from the animal clinic and it's oddly comforting. Their relationship is evolving, changing and shifting into something different, something _more._ Sleep comes for Tommy with a vengeance as he dreams of broken bones and poisoned blood.

* * *

"Okay, so this one is Forrest, he's a greyhound." Gray says, pointing to one of the dogs. "That one is Leo, he's a German Shephard. The smaller one is Bobby. He's a sweet little beagle. The black lab is Max. And this big guy is Reggie. He's a Pit Bull and Boxer mix." Gray's smiles and it's bright and affectionate as she bends down to let Reggie sniff her and lick her cheek.

Tommy's standing to the side, watching Gray greet all the dogs at the doggie daycare center. He can't help but smile seeing her like this. She's at ease, calm and _happy_. When she moves away to tend to the other dogs Reggie ambles towards Tommy, sitting right at his feet and staring upwards at him. Reggie's mouth hangs open in that signature pitbull smile, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "What're you looking at?" Tommy says, but he drops down to a crouch where Reggie can smell him. He chuckles as the dog circles him then climbs onto Tommy's knees to lick his face. He's never had a dog and he suddenly finds himself wishing that he did. Reggie doesn't look at Tommy warily; he isn't intimidated or judgmental. Reggie is full of never ending unconditional love. Pure and forgiving.

"It's hard to find homes for his kind of dog." Gray sighs, crouching down next to him. Tommy runs his fingers through Reggie's fur and touches noses with him.

"Doesn't he have a home?"

"Nope. He's in foster care." Gray frowns and scratches Reggie behind the ears. "Pit Bulls get a bad wrap. They look intimidating and have a reputation for violence, but in reality they're the sweetest dog a person could own. They're fiercely protective and loyal. And loving. They're very loving." Tommy nods his head, watching as Reggie trots away to eat with the others. "Kinda like you."

Gray bumps his shoulder then swiftly kisses his cheek, catching him off guard.

* * *

Tommy sleeps alone that night in his own apartment. The bed feels expansive and empty and his mind turns to Gray. He closes his eyes and thinks of her smile and the sound of her laugh. He remembers the softness of her skin and the miserable face she made when she cried. He swallows hard and his mind sticks on the thought of her bleeding on the floor, a shadowy, unfamiliar figure standing over her. Tommy is all too familiar with that scenario and the thought of it fills his blood with hot, sickening fury.

Before he goes to sleep, Tommy climbs out of bed and heads for the kitchen. 5 minutes later he's pouring all the alcohol in his house down the kitchen drain. "I'm not turning into you, old man." He says aloud. Then he pitches the bottles and goes back to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

The holidays took forever to make their way around and Tommy is starting to feel the mounting excitement that every kid does as Christmas grows steadily nearer.

"I'm nearly 11! And dad says I could go pro if I keep winning all these tournaments. So, I was thinking maybe I'd try out for the varsity team. But I'd have to buy my own equipment so I was wondering if maybe-"

"Tommy it's almost Christmas." His mother sighs, but there's a smile on her lips and she looks at him lovingly. Languid bruises wrap their way around her upper arms, a fading imprint of the week before.

"Yeah, but-" Tommy starts, but his mother has already turned back to the stove and Brendan has bounded in to tell her all about school and practice at the gym. Paddy has started taking him by himself in the evenings again. Tommy's skills have surpassed Brendan's, making practicing together cumbersome. Paddy comes into the kitchen behind him, stomping the snow off of his boots on the welcome mat.

"Hello, beautiful." He says to his wife. There's sadness in his eyes and a rare tenderness there as he looks her face over, brushing her bruises with his he gently grazes her swollen lip with a kiss. Tommy's mother closes her eyes and allows this moment to unfold. Tommy can see the tension begin to dissolve as she realizes that he hasn't been drinking- not yet.

"Hey, how'd school go, shortstack?" Paddy asks Tommy. He ruffles Tommy's hair as he passes.

"It was fine...coach says I might be able to try out for Varsity next season." He tries to say it casually, waiting for his father's proud response.

He isn't disappointed.

"Tommy!" Paddy shouts. "That's my boy! Just like his old man."

Joy and pride surges through Tommy, but even then in the back of his mind he feels a foreboding. I don't want to be just like you. But, he shoves the thought down deep and smiles widely. Brendan rolls his eyes in the background, jealous on one hand, but very pleased on the other.

"Guys, do you mind if Tess comes over for Christmas?" Brendan asks. He's tries to casually slip the question into the conversation, but his mother immediately picks up on the significance.

"Well, of course she can. As long as it's alright with her parents." She smiles at him affectionately. "I'll set an extra place at the table for her and we can go out and get a little gift for her too, if you'd like."

Tommy frowns, looking towards Brendan. "Christmas is for families."

Brendan rolls his eyes. "Christmas is a celebration with family and friends."

Tommy drops the subject, but there's still a sour feeling in his gut that he doesn't understand.

Weeks pass and Christmas is finally upon them. The tree is decked out in red and gold decorations, the lights reflected in the windows around it. Tommy lays beneath the tree looking up into it's depths, allowing his eyes to become unfocused until everything looks soft and warm. He hears footsteps approaching and a moment later Brenden is laying next to him.

"What's the matter?" Brendan asks.

Tommy shrugs his shoulders, but doesn't answer.

"Tommy, Tess is my girlfriend. I like her. A lot."

Tommy doesn't answer, tears stinging his eyes. He blinks them away. "I know."

"You'll understand how that feels when you're older."

Tommy rolls his eyes with a disgusted expression. "Yeah right."

Brendan gently punches his shoulder. "Tommy, no one is replacing you, okay?"

"What are you talking about?" Tommy asks, feigning confusion.

"Look, kiddo, I know you." Brendan sighs. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Just because I've been spending a lot of time with Tess doesn't mean I'm going to stop spending time with you. You know that."

Tommy nods. They lay side by side until the doorbell rings and Brendan jumps up with a nervous bounce. Tommy stands up and their parents come into the living room from the kitchen to greet their guest. Brendan opens the door and invites Tess inside. The first thing Tommy notices is how pretty she is. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone so pretty. His eyes drift to Brendan and what he finds surprises him. Brendan wears an expression Tommy has never seen on him before. The word that springs to the forefront of his mind is devotion.

"Tess, this is my mom and dad. And that's my kid brother, Tommy."

Tess shakes each of their hands, clearly nervous, but excited. When she reaches Tommy, she smiles and says "It's nice to finally meet you, Tommy. I've heard so much about you." Tommy's chest swells with pride.

Presents are opened and wrapping paper litters the carpet, making it almost impossible to get around the living room. Tommy beams at the bright red punching bag resting on the floor. The package had been addressed to "My Little Champion" from his mom and dad. Next to it sits a new pair of MMA gloves, black and gleaming.

Tommy's parents sit in the kitchen, listening to old Christmas tunes while Brendan and Tess chat quietly on the couch. Tommy watches them and finds himself comparing them to his mom and dad. Brendan is gentle with Tess. They exchange soft touches and their words flow out warm and even. Tess throws her head back and laughs at something Brendan has said. Tommy doesn't know what to make of it. He's never seen his father and mother interact that way. Not since he was too little to remember.

The sky grows dark as Tommy watches Brendan open the car door for Tessa through the front window. He's driving her home and won't be back for at least an hour. So, for now it's just Tommy, reveling in his Christmas joy, enjoying the little gifts and continuously looking at his new punching back in awe.

Everything feels still and soft as Tommy lays beneath the tree again. He knows he should be in bed by now, but it's Christmas and his Ma and Pops haven't said anything, so he stays under the tree, curled up like a cat. When he rouses from his half-asleep state it's to the sound of voices locked in an argument. His muscles tense and he pulls his limbs closer to his body, listening.

"You were supposed to be home in a few minutes, not a few hours!" His mother says, desperately. "It's Christmas. You couldn't have put the bottle away for one night?"

"Would you can it already?" Paddy growls. "I'm a grown man, I don't need you telling me what to do, see?"

"Well, you can't seem to make your own healthy decisions!" She shouts.

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut tightly, waiting for his father's palm to collide with it's target. When it does, he claps his hands over his ears, but the voices are too loud. "Stop, stop, stop, please stop." Tommy whispers under his breath.

"PADDY!" His mother screams, her cries muffled by his small palms. "Paddy, please! I love you. Your boys love you!"

But, Paddy has already had one too many drinks and something inside him has snapped beyond repair. He ignores her words and yanks her up out of the chair she's fallen into. The sound of her scream coupled with the thump of her body hitting the counter is too much for Tommy to bear. He crawls out from beneath the tree cautiously, begging whoever is listening to make all of this stop.

"I just want you to try, Paddy. You can't keep letting this control your life." She cries.

"You don't know what it was like out there. Don't you dare talk about it like you know." Paddy says, voice dangerously low.

"Then help me to know." She begs. "Before it's too late."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Tommy reaches the kitchen doorway and peaks around it. The scene before him fills him with anger and disgust. His mother sits on the floor in front of the sink. Paddy towers over her, spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth, his eyes watery and red, his skin the color of a beet.

"We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this." She closes her eyes. "If we don't fix this...I'll leave. I'll take the boys and I'll leave."

Tommy's heart pounds in his chest. A line has been crossed. He can feel it in the way his father moves, he can see it in the way he stares at his mother. Just as Paddy reaches forward, Tommy rounds the corner and screams "Stop!"

Paddy barely spares him a glance before he crouches down in front of his wife and leans forward until they're almost nose to nose. He grabs her chin and forces her to look at him. "Don't you ever threaten me again."

Quiet permeates the room. Paddy stands up as if to walk away and Tommy lets out a breath of relief that things weren't worse, then-

CRACK.

Paddy's fist makes contact with the side of her jaw. Blood trickles from her open mouth as she screams in pain. Her jaw hangs loosely at an odd angle. She looks to Tommy and passes out, falling over onto the linoleum floor.

Tommy wonders who's screaming so loudly before he realizes that it's his own voice he's hearing. He runs to his mother, trying to roll her on to her back.

"What did you do?!" He screams at Paddy. His voice cracks with strain. "I hate you! I HATE YOU."

Paddy surveys the scene momentarily and shakes his head like he's confused about where he is- or who he is. He stumbles backwards and out the front door into thick and fast falling snow.

Tommy puts his forehead to his mother's as he cries, waiting for Brendan to come home and put things right.

But, Brendan doesn't come home for a long time and when he does, his mother and brother are being loaded into an ambulance. Tommy watches Brendan, but his eyes are cold and angry. Brendan is crying, standing outside in the snow.

"I'm so sorry. I should've been here….I'm sorry." He says over and over again. Tommy only continues to stare at him.

Some measure of trust has finally broken between brothers. An EMT closes the doors, obscuring Brendan from sight.


	9. Chapter 9

The last few weeks have been filled with stolen glances and fingers ghosting over each other's skin. Smiling has become almost easy. Tommy's heart feels weightless when he looks at Gray's bright smile. It's heavy when he leaves her or when she walks out his doorway after dinner. They spend at least 4 nights a week at the gym, dodging each other's punches when they're not inches from each other on the floor. Just yesterday, Gray had landed Tommy on the flat of his back, her face hovering so close that he could have counted her eyelashes had he not been staring so intently at her lips. She stayed there a second too long before pulling away with a joyous laugh. The air had whooshed from his chest and he'd taken longer than usual to get back into a defensive position.

He can't keep lying to himself anymore. Pretending that this is nothing more than light friendship is futile. Tommy wants Gray. He wants to feel her skin against his, he wants to kiss her, to hold her...He wants to feel her underneath him. The thought makes his heart flutter uncomfortably. He tries to swallow down his own desires. How could he possibly ever deserve her? Even at 6 weeks sober, he searches for the ugliest parts of himself as a reminder of who he's been. It's harder for him to see what he _can_ be.

Tommy looks down at Reggie, his new leather collar with the engraved name plate gleaming in the sunlight, and smiles. "What do you think bud? Huh?" Reggie just gives him that pitbull smile, his tongue hanging out and jumps up to paw at Tommy's legs. Tommy kneels down and rubs his face against Reggie's fur, letting Reggie lick the side of his head into a mess. His phone rings and he answers it right away when he sees the silly photo he took of Gray flash across the screen.

"Hey." Tommy says into the phone, his hand absentmindedly running over Reggie's back.

"Hey, you." Gray says back. "How're you and Reggie getting along?"

"You really wanna know?" Tommy asks.

"Yes!" Gray says impatiently.

"I mean, uh, to be honest, I think I might love the big guy." Tommy chuckles. He can almost hear Gray's smile over the line when she responds.

"I told you you two would hit it off. And Reggie can be picky."

"Yeah, well…" Tommy responds, trying to play it down.

Gray laughs and Tommy closes his eyes to the sound of it. "Uh, you wanna do something later?"

"Tommy, did you just ask if I wanted to do you later?" Gray asks, mock outrage in her voice.

Tommy's heart skips. Did he really just say that on accident?

"What? No! I was asking if you wanna hang out-"

"Tommy, I'm kidding!"

"Okay, you can't just say shit like that to someone you know that?" Tommy says trying not to laugh again.

"Yeahyeahyeah." Gray says.

"I mean it." He can't help it. He laughs again.

When they hang up, he sighs and sits on the couch, Regging climbing onto his lap. Tommy's eyes fall on the picture of Pilar and the kids sitting on the shelf across from him. Guilt finds its way into his bloodstream. When he looks at the picture of himself and Manny it only deepens. Being happy feels almost wrong. Does he deserve to be happy after everything he's done? _It should be Manny,_ he thinks, _It should be Manny on earth and happy and me in the ground_.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook." Gray says, her chin resting in her palm at the kitchen counter. Her eyes are hooded and dark as she watches Tommy clear away the remnents of of dinner.

"My ma taught me." Tommy responds. He leaves it at that, feeling awkward and a little exposed.

Gray walks to Tommy and slips her arms around him, resting her head on his back. Tommy closes his eyes and sighs inaudibly. He can feel her fingers against his abdomen, his skin tingling beneath his t-shirt. The cool metal of the sink beneath his palms almost tempers the heat under his skin.

"What's your mom like?" Gray asks tentatively. At first, she doesn't think he'll answer, afraid that she's crossing some unspoken line until she hears his voice rumble in his back.

"She was...strong. Stronger than she thought she was. When, uh, when Brendan and I were kids she'd do everything with us. She was always there, no matter what. But, she was also stretched too thin all the time, trying to do everything she could for everyone. But, uh, she…" Tommy's voice stalls and he clears his throat.

Gray's heart drops. She thinks she's known it all along, but it still pains her to hear Tommy finally say it.

"She died. Just before I joined the Marines. She had cancer and we didn't...we were gonna try for treatment, but she didn't have health insurance and my job at the gym in Tacoma wasn't enough for us to, you know, get her what she needed."

Gray hugs him tighter and he rests a large hand on her forearm. She's holding him together.

"We lived in a shitbox out there. We didn't have a damn thing. But, she did everything she could to make sure I had as normal a life as possible. She gave up too much for me. I just wanted to uh...be able to repay her."

"She's your Mom, Tommy. She loved you. That's what mom's do."

"Yeah..well, she put up with a lot of shit for a long time." Tommy says quietly. He turns away from the sink and dislodges himself from Gray's arms, moving so that he can face her. He holds one of her hands in his own. "She...my Ma, um...Well, my pops, Paddy, he uh, used to hurt her."

Gray looks into Tommy's deep blue eyes and sees how difficult this is to say out loud. She recognizes the tone to his voice. It's the same as her own when she told him about her ex-husband.

"He used to hurt Brendan and I too." Tommy rubs his free hand over his eyes and clenches his jaw. "That's why she finally left. And she took me with her. We had it all planned out."

"And Brendan?" Gray asks barely above a whisper.

"He chose to stay with Pops. Even though all Pop did was hurt us, he stayed. He finally got Pops to himself, I guess. But...more than anything he stayed for Tess."

"His wife?"

"They were highschool sweethearts back then. She was always good to me, you know? She probably hates me now." Tommy laughs humorlessly.

"I don't think so." Gray says.

Tommy shakes his head. "It's complicated, Gray. And it's even more complicated now that we're all back in each other's lives. Sorta. I don't know. And then you add Manny's family into the mix and...Manny was my brother."

Gray hugs Tommy to her again and rests her cheek against his chest. He leans his cheek against the top of her head.

"Pilar and her kids are my family. They were more my family than my own family. And then Manny died. Everyone died. Except for 's why I deserted. I couldn't get Manny's blood off of my hands. So, that's why I send Pilar anything she needs. I don't know how else to say thank you to Manny. For saving my sorry ass after my Ma died. For being the family I always wanted. Words aren't enough."

"I'm so sorry that those things happened to you," Gray says, tears in her eyes.

"Nah, don't apologize." Tommy says dragging his hands across his cheeks and nose. "It was a long time ago. It'll get better."

It's only as he's saying it that he realizes it's the truth. Things have been getting better. He doesn't know for how long, but he wants to cling to this feeling of relief and... _happiness_ until he can't any longer. He tilts Gray's face upwards until she meets his eyes. "I'm gonna be okay. Don't worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you. You're my best friend. You're more than that. I can't imagine what my life would be like if you hadn't walked into it."

 _More than that_ sticks in Tommy's brain, hope blossoming somewhere under his ribs. He looks down into Gray's soft green eyes and knows that he never stood a chance. He belonged to Gray the moment they'd agreed to meet on a Monday morning with no expectations and carrying the weight of their pasts on their shoulders. Two beaten, but unbroken souls searching for forgiveness and redemption, hope and peace.

Tommy shakes his head and looks away from Gray, grinning. "Yeah, I guess you're not so bad either."

Gray shrugs and smiles widely. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, no problem." Tommy says, looking at her intently. "You know what else my mom taught me how to do?"

"What?" Gray says, biting her lip.

"Dance." Tommy says with a grin.


End file.
